live through this.

rome is also built on ruins.   ind. multimuse by luke.

[thequotejournals]

But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself.

Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil (via wordsnquotes)

[fatespin]

xmarksthescott·.

❛   it actually was well rehearsed –up until right now that is.  ❜  he teases although it’s seeped in truth. she still fits in his arms the same way, still smells of dior and luxury. it’s a nice reminder that some things never change, even if the rest of his world seems so different. the xmen are gone, he’s alive, and the political current has become even worse for mutants –but she’s still emma and he’s still scott, and maybe that’s enough for now.

❛   good to see you’ve still got your snark.  ❜  it’s another small joke, one to cut through all the things he wants to say but can’t find the words for. his chin rests right atop her head arms secure around her because he doesn’t want to let go just yet. ❛   all the x-men disappeared and i wasn’t sure i’d even find you here. but i guess luck was on my side just this once.  ❜

                    “ -- luck  is  one  word  for  it. ”    she  did  not  have  space,  amid  her  grief,  to  feel  slighted,  to  take  offense.    all  the  x-men,  a  call  sent  out  --  all  the  x-men,  past  or  present.    for  all  her  dearest  friends,  a  death  sentence ;   for  her,  a  confirmation,  a  silence  in  her  mind  to  say  she  is  not  one  of  them,  and  perhaps  never  fully  was.    to  be  left  again  a  lone  survivor  --  kurt,  henry,  ororo,  katherine,  piotr,  erik,  the  students,  all  her  students  --  to  be  spared  by  her  exclusion,  by  the  cold  shoulder  she’s  earned.    she  had  not  felt  lucky  then.    

          she  feels  somewhat  luckier  now. 

          without  proper  heels  she  stands  shorter  than  him  by  enough  to  tuck  her  head  against  his  collar,  to  let  him  envelop  her  as  only  he  has  ever  been  permitted  to.    she  brushes  light  against  the  surface  of  his  mind,  seeks  to  slip  back  into  that  old  familiar  intimacy,  the  matching  spaces  in  their  psyches  formed  to  cradle  one  another.    he  wants  to  hold  her  here,  the  only  place  she  wants  to  be  --  here,  where  she  can  hear  the  beating  of  his  heart  against  her  ear  --  but  she  craves  something  else  first,  and  with  some  reluctance  she  gently  withdraws  her  body  from  his,  her  mind  from  his,  and  lets  a  sheen  of  perfect  crystal  consume  her  head  to  toe. 

          she  lifts  a  hand,  light  splintering  prismatic  through  diamond  fingers  as  she  touches  the  side  of  his  visor.    “ let  me  see  you. ”

[fatespin]

bloomingdeed·.

he remembers a time he called out for someone who didn’t come.  couldn’t come.  it’s a memory that hits him quietly,  unearthing itself from the fog of cold nights and heat gathered from dried leaves and hot water.  silence is not golden,  he thinks as other memories work their way loose,  it’s deadly.  it’s vicious and merciless.  better to try to fill the void with company.  his tongue is coated in something bittersweet.  he ponders,  taking a slow drink from his cup.

‘  what do you mean?  ’

                    oh,  she’s  already  messed  this  up.    not  nearly  for  the  first  time  she  longs  for  the  ease  of  conversation  softened  by  so  many  years,  for  comfortable  silences  and  meanings  poorly  communicated  but  fully  understood,  for  an  old  name.    she  looks  at  her  hands,  pushes  at  her  cuticles.    “ i  mean  --  you  always  grow  mushrooms.    you  could  make  flowers,  or  something. ”    no,  that  sounded  bad.    “ i  don’t  mean  that  flowers  are  better,  or ...  i  prefer  flowers.    i  am  not  saying ...   mushrooms  are  bad.    i ...   oh,  man. ”    this  is  going  terribly.

[fairweathermyth]

[littlelovelymemes]

(   *   &.   –   MORE  POPULAR  TEXT  POST  STARTERS .

‘  i’m alive out of spite.  ’

‘  do you ever just feel super unloveable?  ’

‘  i’m so datable…. and yet here i am…. not being asked on dates….tragic….  ’

‘  hey quick question: what the fuck is going on??  ’

‘  i’m a person who wants to do lots of things trapped inside a body that wants to SLEEP at all times.  ’

‘  my mindset is changing and i just don’t want to be around certain things or people anymore.  ’

‘  i want mamma mia to become the fast and furious franchise of musicals.  ’

‘  playlists are a love language.  ’

‘  gay culture is being just a little bit in love with all your friends.  ’

‘  so damn ready for hoodies and cold nights.  ’

‘  if you were emo once you’re emo for life, whether you wear the uniform anymore or not.  ’

‘  i’m all panic and no disco.  ’

‘  me talking to myself in the morning: okay bitch, get the fuck up.  ’

‘  can i stop existence for a few hours?  ’

‘  you ain’t at your lowest till you sit down in a standing shower.  ’

‘  i’m super sexual but like also i’m super shy which don’t mix well.  ’

‘  princess aurora is just so relatable… she’s known for simply… sleeping… inspirational tbh…  ’

‘  destroy the idea that i can be stopped. that i can be defeated by mortal hands.  ’

‘  on all levels except physical i am an emo middle schooler.  ’

‘  whatever you do, do it with love.  ’

‘  we’re all just ex-emo kids tryin to make it in this post-emo world.  ’

‘  i just want to dance around in lacy lingerie and oversized shirts and makeout on someones lap.  ’

‘  screenshots don’t scare me, i know what the fuck i said.  ’

‘  i’m going to say something super controversial here: billionaires shouldn’t exist.  ’

‘  i just had the absolute WORST realization: glee would have covered despacito.  ’

‘  i wish to radiate moonlight and heavenly energy at all times.  ’

‘  shout out to everyone who i still trying to heal from things they don’t talk about.  ’

‘  it’s just me and my big thighs against the world.  ’

‘  what happens to all your teen angst when you’re 20… like where does it go?  ’

‘  shout out to my incoherent bitches!! shout out to all the babes out there who don’t make no fucking sense!!  ’

‘  tiny hearts generate above my head when i think of you.  ’

‘  tested positive for overthinking.  ’

‘  queer eye is just like ‘damn bitch, you live like this?’ the show.  ’

‘  i want the queer eye guys to come to my house and just burn all my shit then prescribe me adderall.  ’

‘  i don’t even keep up with the memes anymore, i just accept them. when we’re sad we play despacito? okie dokie.  ’

‘  am i annoying and a little ugly? yes. but will i let that get in the way of doing what i love and being happy?? also probably yes.  ’

‘  someone waiting to do something because they want to experience it with you is a glowing kind of love.  ’

‘  am i in love with someone? nah i got shit to do.  ’

‘  never understood people who let candy melt in their mouth. i’ll bite down on a damn jolly rancher because i lack the patience.  ’

‘  if you think i’m cute you legally have to tell me.  ’

‘  look at you, living everyday without the person you thought you needed.  ’

‘  i want a soft love that feels like when your standing in the sunlight and you don’t want to leave and that gives you the sensation of lazily melting into what’s around you as you take it all in  ’

‘  my neck, my back, my anxiety attack.  ’

‘  why get a boyfriend when you can get a pack of really nice pens.  ’

‘  in sixth grade you were either a cucumber melon bitch or a warm vanilla sugar bitch.  ’

‘  friendly reminder: the way they treat(ed) you is not a reflection of your worth.  ’

‘  i wish i could be near you, my heart misses you.  ’

‘  i’m not trying my hardest but i’m very tired which i think should be taken into consideration  ’

[fatespin]

xmarksthescott·.

it’s hard to render emma speechless, but for a moment he swears he did. words were never his strong suit but they never felt quite so impossible. but what could he say? there’s a pain written in her features that he hasn’t seen before, a guttural, more intense brand of grief. the mental preparation for this moment was useless because the minute he laid eyes on her, his heart all but stopped. two years. two years made quite the difference.

when she runs to him, he envelops her in his arms, holding tight like she’ll slip away –like he will. ❛   but i have to say it. i never wanted to put you through any of that.  ❜ 

                    the  stable  strength  of  his  arms,  the  way  she  has  always  fit  against  him,  interlocked  like  --  like  some  goddamn  cliche,  like  the  horrendous  sap  he  turns  her  into.    she  recognizes  the  movement  of  every  muscle  as  he  draws  her  close  to  him,  recognizes  him  in  the  rhythm  of  his  breathing ;   god,  he  even  smells  right,  sweat  under  aftershave  and  that  subtle  edge  of  ozone.    she  knots  her  fingers  in  his  shirt,  my  love,  my  lover.

          “ i  don’t  care. ”    her  voice  is  all  breath,  but  to  her  pride  it  does  not  break  or  waver,  or  dissolve  into  girlish  whimpering.    she  may  resign  herself  to  tears,  but  she  ought  to  retain  some  shred  of  dignity.    “ scott,  i  don’t  --  my  darling,  i’m  sorry  to  interrupt  what  i’m  sure  would  have  been  a  very  well  rehearsed  apology,  but  it  doesn’t  matter.    i  don’t  care. ”

[fate]

via weheartit

[fatespin]

@exilesea​.

’ how  many ?  doesn’t  matter  how  many. ’ soil-stained,  roughed fingertips  drag  sharply  across  the  map  that  lays  flattened  out  before  him  finding  their  targeted  mark.  england shallowed  by his  tempestuous  hand:  consumed  with  an  ease  that  vexes him.   were  things  only  as  simple  as  moving  one’s  finger.   then,  with  an  inevitable  sigh,  he  lifts  his  gaze,  stern  hues  meeting  hers:  ‘  their  pardons  have  little  to  do  with  what  is  in  our  hearts.  they  are  strictly  formality.  you  flatter  them  if  you  think, even  for  a  second,  that  a  pardon  will  make  them  care  any  more   about  what  is  in  our hearts.  they  don’t  care,  they  won’t  ever  care.   even  if  their  pardon  may  prevent  the   noose  around  your  neck  for  a  time,  we  will  always  be  their  lesser.  we  have  no  hearts  to  them,  miss guthrie ‘

                    she  would  greatly  prefer  to  believe  that  any  civilized  person  ought  to  be  possessed  of  some  care  for  the  contents  of  the  heart  of  another.    but  she  does  suppose  it  may  become  quite  inconvenient,  to  give  thought  to  a  fair  metric  by  which  a  man  might  be  judged  when  one  has  already  obliged  to  condemn  all  his  class,  a  judgement  en  masse.    she  really  must  let  go  these  childish  conceptions  of  fairness. 

          “ you  may  be  right. ”    the  clean  click  of  her  boots  on  the  wood,  her  indelicate  steps ;   she  stops  across  the  table  from  her  ally,  plants  both  of  her  hands  at  the  map’s  edge.    her  eyes  flick  between  the  country  cupped  in  his  hand  to  the  speck  of  sand  where  she  has  lain  her  heart.    how  far  beyond  reason,  that  in  any  moment  a  well--chosen  word  there  could  spell  their  end  here,  that  the  insurmountable  water  between  them  could  be  so  lightly  spanned.    eleanor  sighs,  drums  her  nails  on  the  desk.

          perhaps  it  may  make  their  lives,  their  prospects,  simpler  --  that  in  the  eyes  of  king  and  country  every  one  of  them  is  equally  reprehensible.    even  ground  is  easiest  to  build  upon.    “ suppose  it  all  goes  to  plan. ”    she  is  not  given  to  optimism,  but  faith  she  can  swallow.    “ the  urca  gold.   her  expenditure  as  you’ve  detailed.    can  you  honestly  see  --  and  i  ask  because,  if  you  can,  i  need  you  to  help  me  to  see  it,  too  --  a  future  for  us  wherein  the  way  england  regards  us  could  hold  no  bearing  over  our  fortunes ? ”

[annabcth]

They’re asking you back, Ahsoka… I’m asking you back. I’m sorry, Master, but I’m not coming back.

[seitjskljglk-deactivated2013102]

ur queen has spoken

[hinatawn]

who do u think u r

[seitjskljglk-deactivated2013102]

[fatespin]

xmarksthescott·.

❛   hey.  ❜  he knows it’s a pathetic thing to say after being literally dead but then again, it’s hard to find any words in such a situation. none that make the situation easier. ❛   i uh –i heard you’ve been pretty busy the last few months.  ❜ a beat. his hands shove into his pockets, a nervous tick. ❛   i’m sorry, emma. for everything you’ve been through the past few months. i know it’s enough to just show back up here like this.  ❜    // @fatespin

                    she’s  gone  still  as  cold  stone  --  her  hand  lifted  to  grasp  her  pendant,  the  small  and  shining  drop  of  red  nestled  in  the  white  folds  of  her  blouse  --  and  he  keeps  talking,  fills  the  empty  air,  the  silence.    they  never  used  to  need  to  fill  the  silence.    she  can  feel  the  tangled  hum  of  his  nervousness,  the  disquiet,  and  swallows  the  impulse  to  sooth  it ;   she  can  feel  the  way  his  mind  coils,  its  familiarity,  its  inimitable  strength,  and  the  sting  of  tears  oncoming.    there  is  no  one  who  could  fool  her  so  utterly.    there  is  no  imaginable  deception  so  perfect,  so  complete. 

          emma  nearly  breaks  into  a  run  in  her  hurry  to  cross  the  foyer,  her  rush  to  reach  him  --  all  urgency  in  the  way  she  throws  her  arms  around  his  neck,  buries  her  head  with  a  shuddering  breath.    “ shut  up. ”

[fatespin]

                    if  her  seven - year - old  self  could  see  her  now  --  actually,  seven - year - old  sherry’s  ambitions  lay  more  along  the  lines  of  curing  cancer  than  taking  her  musical  skill  to  the  stage.    she’d  probably  want  to  know  whatever  happened  to  that  doctorate  she’d  planned  on.    but  that  hardly  diminishes  the  gentle  awe  that  stirs  in  her  at  the  sight,  the  size  of  the  theater  --  the  beauty  of  it,  the  memories  of  childhood  recitals  not  so  distant  as  they’ve  felt,  not  so  much  like  another  life.    they’ve  called  a  break  in  rehearsal ;   sherry  smooths  her  skirts,  stands,  approaches  the  one  player  she’s  not  yet  greeted.    “ excuse  me ?    you  play  beautifully. ”    she  extends  a  hand,  small,  her  nails  trimmed  short  and  polished  eggshell  blue.    “ i  didn’t  get  a  chance  to  introduce  myself  before  we  started.    i’m  the  guesting  pianist.    sherry  birkin. ”                                  // @violints  hit  ♡

[rackhamrogue]

A long time ago you asked me to leave Nassau with you to avoid ruin. If I had said yes, where would we have gone? I have no idea. I was so close to saying yes.

[fatespin]

                    it’s  an  odd  feeling,  looking  up  at  someone  rather  than  down.    even  among  her  own  people,  scarcely  anyone  stood  taller  than  her,  and  none  by  so  great  a  margin  as  their  firbolg  friend.    “ caduceus. ”    does  he  prefer  mr.  clay ?    their  allies  have  no  shortage  of  nicknames  for  him,  but  yasha  for  her  part  is  never  sure  which  ones  are  right.    she  shuffles,  shifts  her  vast  weight  from  foot  to  foot.    “ if  you  don’t,  um...   why...   mushrooms ? ”                              // @bloomingdeed  hit  ♡

[fatespin]

                    she  has  hemmed  all  of  her  skirts  above  the  ankles,  her  own  rough  fingers  working  the  needle.    she  never  took  to  her  mother’s  embroidery  lessons  as  a  girl,  never  found  joy  in  it,  but  she’d  tugged  at  the  thread  with  some  sense  of  satisfaction,  smug  pleasure  at  the  thought  of  how  scandalized  her  father  would  be  by  the  sight  of  her  boots,  if  he  cared  enough  to  lay  eyes  on  her  at  all.    eleanor  is  as  proud  as  pragmatic  --  she  likes  to  walk  with  purpose,  to  stride  the  beach  without  dragging  in  the  sand  --  to  cross  the  narrow  wooden  bridge  that  binds  her  bedchambers  to  her  lover’s  without  ripping  up  splinters  as  she  goes. 

          she  stops  first,  stands  silent  and  listens  for  heavy  breaths,  for  heady  gasps,  for  wet  smacking  of  skin.    nothing  --  she’s  not  interrupting.    she  lifts  a  hand  to  rap  two  knuckles  twice  against  the  glass  of  the  door.    “ max ? ”    a  pause,  and  then  added,  hardly  necessary  --   “ it’s  eleanor. ”                              //  @shewolv ​ hit  ♡

[fatespin]

i have muse, i have new icons, this is an official starter call !!   specify muse or submit to my gashapon 

[dct239394cvvd098dffgggp]

‘are you okay’ by normal people standards? no. by my standards? do you see me crying? no? then yea im good